


Periphery

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: Two years ago, Alice’s life changed. Papa became sick and left, and she’s only been able to keep in contact through an online messenger window and a game. Her life is about to change again, this time in ways she can’t begin to fathom.





	1. Chapter 1

Alice nibbles on her thumbnail and turns the page in her notebook, scribbling down every step of her long division, and glancing up at her computer screen every few moments. It’s been three minutes and he hasn’t made a move, and the chat screen also remains stagnant.

Finishing off her last problem, she sticks her pencil in the base of her ponytail, a habit that more often than not leads her to forget where she put it, and types into the small gray and white window.

_Come on, old man. You’re taking forever!_

The screen shows that he’s typing and a moment later he sends her a message back, a little chirp tone accompanying it.

_It’s called strategy, love, and it requires patience._

_Strategy?_ she replies, grinning.  _I think you mean delaying the inevitable. I got you beat, admit it._

_I will admit no such thing._

But he does make his move, and it’s precisely what she knew he’d do, and she’ll have him checkmated in three more moves, without a doubt.

Naturally, when she does beat him, she’s all smiles as the window with their little game bursts into pixelated confetti, a banner stating “Black Wins!” hovering on top.

_Beaten by my own daughter once again! How did you get so smart?_

_I dunno Papa. I think maybe it’s in my genes._

It’s been a couple of years since she saw him in person, but she’d like to think he’s wearing her favorite face right now –– the one where she can see every crinkle beside his eyes and he looks so happy he might cry.

Her eyes stray to the photo of them framed and propped up on her desk, and she wonders if she’ll ever see that face again.

_My time’s up, sweetheart. Same time next week?_

She sighs sadly.  _I’ll be here._

_I love you, Starfish, more than all the stars in the sky._

_I love you too Papa, more than all the grains of sand on the earth._

Their hour always goes by far too quickly. When the little light by his screen name goes from green to gray, she turns off her monitor and leans back in her swivel chair, closing her eyes.

A breeze wafts through her open window, billowing beneath the curtain and making her shiver. Rain is coming; she can smell it. She kicks her feet against the floor, making her chair roll back until it softly bounces against the side of her mattress, then she slowly gets up to shut the window.

As the latch clicks, her eye catches movement in the bushes behind the house. A little white rabbit, stark against the green grass, darts beneath the overgrown leaves, and she presses her forehead to the glass to watch it shake and scratch an itch on its neck.

“Take me to Wonderland, Mr. Rabbit,” she whispers, her breath fogging up the view. “Maybe I can find a cure there.”

She’s quiet for a minute, then laughs at herself. It’s not a funny laugh, not a joyful one.

Papa is sick. That’s what he tells her and that’s what she’s told and that’s how it is. No one will say any more than that. He’s sick, and that’s why he’s away. He’s sick, and that’s why she can’t see him, why she can’t speak to him. He’s sick, and away, and when he gets better someday, he’ll return to her.

But she’s almost twelve now, and this vague sickness bothers her more than ever, because it sounds like a lie.

She’s almost certain it’s a lie.

Or at least, it’s not the whole truth. And she knows Papa would never want to hurt her, but she wonders if he knows that keeping secrets hurts, too.

The tip of her finger draws a rabbit in the foggy glass, two whiskers on each side of its dot nose, and before it has time to fade away, a kind voice shouts her name from the kitchen.

It’s Ariel, calling her for dinner. Ariel is her… she’s never been sure what to call her. “Caretaker” sounds too detached and distant, but “mother” is the opposite extreme. She’s never liked “guardian” either, because it sounds too much like “guard” and Alice doesn’t like feeling like a captive.

Ariel is simply Ariel. Papa’s friend from over a decade past, a stranger to Alice when she came to live here two years ago, and now the only person to care for her like Papa cared for her. She’s nice and artistic and crafty, though she’s more or less a hermit.

Well, they’re both hermits, now, she supposes. Ariel homeschools her and they live a solid two miles from anyone else and neither of them have friends to visit  or play with. They go to town twice a month for groceries and to stop by the library; otherwise, it’s very much an isolated life.

Alice follows the slightly burnt scent to the kitchen table and Ariel sends her a look that’s half grimace, half smile.

“It’s edible… I think.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she assures her. Even if the food tasted like charcoal, Alice would eat it all the same, and never complain at not having something better.

Even though she misses Papa’s homemade jam and sweet honey bread.

Halfway through dinner, Ariel asks how her hour was. She doesn’t pry for information, but all the same, Alice notices the flash of disappointment when her reply is a simple, “Good.”

But it’s not to keep her at arm’s length; it’s just that she isn’t sure what to say. Because every week, with but a few differences, their conversations are much the same, and their chess match usually falls in her favor, and there’s no news –– good or bad –– to share.

She isn’t sure if she should say that she misses him so much that she sometimes cries herself to sleep. Or that every time he logs off at the end of their hour, this deep pit forms in her stomach and she wonders if it’s the last time she’ll get a chance to speak to him, every time.

She doesn’t know if it would burden her to know that, even through her loneliness, she’s afraid she’s gotten used to him being gone. Or that there are day-to-day moments when she forgets to think about him, about the fact that he isn’t here, and that maybe she feels like an orphan in those moments, and that that’s beginning to feel normal.

They finish eating, stacking the dishes in the sink for later, and then they sit and go over Alice’s assignment. Ariel snags the pencil from Alice’s hair with a soft smile, and circles two places for corrections.

It’s raining by bedtime, not heavily, but steady. Alice moves her pillow to the foot of her bed so she can lie down staring straight out of the window. It’s pitch dark, but lightning sparks in the distance every minute or two, breaking through the black sky and showing the shapes and shadows of clouds and trees for a fraction of a second.

She wonders if that little white rabbit is still beneath the bushes, taking cover, or if he’s scurried off into the forest by now.

Her lids droop and she blinks slowly.

On the cusp of sleep, she’s startled awake by the messenger alert tone. For a few seconds, she thinks she’s dreamt it, that it was a trick of the mind. But then it goes again, another quick little  _chirp-chirp_  that has her scrambling to her feet blindly leaping to her computer.

She presses the monitor button and squints for a few seconds as the bright screen invades her tired eyes. When she adjusts, she stares at the window where it shows two new messages from Papa.

_Alice, are you awake? You must get up right now._

_Tell me you’re awake. Answer me._

Another message comes while she’s standing there, confused and alarmed.

_Darling, I need you to answer me. Tell me you’re there._

Her fingers shaking, she types back.

_I’m here, Papa. What’s wrong? Are you okay?_

_I’m fine, but you need to leave the house right now. Go wake Ariel, tell her I told you to leave._

She can feel her brow creasing, and she knows he’s just told her to do something, but her brain hasn’t caught up yet and it’s all so jumbled and strange, and she doesn’t know why she’s getting messages from him when it’s not their weekly hour.

_I don’t understand. Leave?_

_Yes, right now. Get Ariel and tell her you need to leave. NOW._

Suddenly her eyes sting like she’s going to cry, because she’s tired, and he seems angry, and she doesn’t know why she has to leave but she doesn’t want to. Still, she sends back,  _Okay_ , before shuffling down the hall to Ariel’s room, her heart caught in her throat.

“Ariel,” she says, and it’s almost a cry, as she shakes the sleeping woman’s shoulder. “Ariel, Papa messaged me. He said we have to leave.”

In a quick movement, Ariel goes from dead asleep to fully alert, sitting upright in the bed and reaching to her nightstand to flip on the lamp.

“He said we need to leave?” Her voice is somewhere between grave and frantic, and that scares Alice a little, too.

“Yes, right now, he said.”

She’s up in an instant, throwing open her closet door and pushing hanging clothes out of the way as she grabs a duffel bag from the floor. It looks already full. She tosses the strap over her shoulder and grabs Alice’s hand, taking long strides back down the hall to her room.

Alice’s cheeks are warm and wet with tears, but she doesn’t make a sound as Ariel pulls her little wheeled suitcase from her closet and begins to haphazardly fill it with a few items of clothing and a pillow. She grabs the picture frame on the desk, too.

“Put some shoes on. Boots. Your favorite pair.” Ariel’s voice is no-nonsense and Alice silently grabs her tall boots from her shoe rack and shoves her feet in them. She isn’t wearing socks and her pajama pants are loose, so it’s uncomfortable.

Another message alert chirps, and Ariel dives for the computer. Alice sniffles and tries to peek over as her one space for her and Papa is taken over.

_Are you leaving? Are you gone?_

_It’s Ariel. We’re up and we’re leaving._

_Tell Alice I love her._

_She knows._

_SSTTR_

_ASOTM_

After those last two messages, the strange jumble of letters, Ariel opens up a program on the computer that Alice has never seen. She types in something that looks nonsensical and a moment later the screen is covered in an array of dizzying colors and lines.

“What’d you do to it?” Alice asks, cries, because that’s where she talks to Papa and now it looks broken.

Ariel steers her out of the room, pushing the handle of the suitcase into her hand.

“We’ll discuss it later.” She grabs one of her coats and one of Alice’s from the rack in the entryway, and her keys, and slips on her flats. In a matter of seconds, they’re out the door and heading for the car.

It’s still raining and it’s cold and Alice is really, truly scared.

She can feel her chin trembling the whole time, as she puts her suitcase on the floorboard and sits in the front seat, and as Ariel tosses her duffel in the back and starts the car. She wipes at her cheeks fruitlessly as they begin to drive away from the house, bundling herself beneath her coat.

“Where are we going? Why are we leaving?” she whimpers. “Why was Papa sending messages?”

For a moment, Ariel is silent, just squinting through her windshield as the wiper blades clear the rain away, shivering as the engine warms and the vents blow cool air.

“It’s hard to explain. There’s so much…” She glances over at Alice and shudders a sigh. “Killian… he isn’t sick.”

Alice feels like her chest is splitting in two.

“Not sick?” That was the whole reason she was here! That was why Papa was away! That was why they’d spent two years apart!

It was a lie, after all, wasn’t it?

“No, honey. He isn’t sick, he’s… he’s caught up in something. We all are. We’re in danger, and your father… he was trying to protect you, keep you safe. He still is.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Everything’s confusing and wrong.

“What danger? What’s happening?” She watches as Ariel bites at her lip and gulps down her nerves. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going somewhere safe.”

Alice tilts her head to the side, pressing her temple to the cold window and staring out into the night.

The rain hits the window, covering her view with dots and streaks, and she can barely make out anything beyond the edge of the road.

“What were those letters?” she finally asks. “The ones you and Papa sent each other.”

After a beat, Ariel reaches over and brushes a sticky wet strand of hair off Alice’s forehead and says, “It’s a code.”

“A code?”

“Yes. A special code, to make sure we are who we say we are, and that we know what we’re doing and where we’re going.”

“I don’t get it. Why would you need a code to know that? Why can’t you just say it?”

She smiles dimly, eyes fixed on the empty road. “Because people lie and do bad things. And we just need to make sure those people don’t get to us. To you.”

“I don’t get it,” she repeats, barely a whisper. She doesn’t know why anyone would be after her or Papa or Ariel. They’re just regular people.

Aren’t they?

Exhaustion takes hold of her not long after, and she falls asleep wondering, not for the first time that day, if she’ll ever see Papa again.


	2. Chapter 2

Dark, terrible dreams follow her into the night.

The sky is black but a flash of light pierces the air and casts shadows, shadows that move, shadows with glowing eyes that stare. There’s a weight on her shoulder and she looks up, and it’s Papa grabbing her, opening his mouth and trying to say something, but no words come out. It’s just silence, and then his skin begins to crawl with the shadows and he’s mouthing words that she can’t make out. She screams for him, reaches for him, and then runs as the shadows begin to crawl toward her, too.

She’s gasping for breath as she runs wildly, tripping over brush and fallen branches, and when she looks back they’re so close to catching her, and she sees Papa so far away, lying on the ground, empty and cold. The shadows reach her and she stumbles backward and then falls.

Falls, falls, down a crevice in the earth, her body weightless as she watches teeth form around the opening above her, and she realizes she’s being swallowed whole.

She startles awake, heart hammering against her ribcage as she takes in her surroundings. Soft light dances over patterned beige bedding, and she’s lying on her stomach, her hair falling in front of her eyes. Brushing it back, she takes in the sight of a mostly empty room, with outdated furniture and wallpaper that peels at the corners.

The feeling of wrongness rushes her senses. This isn’t her room.

She pushes herself up, feet beneath her bottom and hands gripping the pillow.

Ariel is lying in the bed next to her, dark circles beneath her eyes and a pinch in her brow as she sleeps, and the memories from last night resurface.

Right. Papa told them to leave, and they left. At some point, they must have stopped and Ariel must have carried her inside.

Careful not to wake her, she slides out of bed and tiptoes to the bathroom. Her boots are by the door and the carpet is thin and rough, and cold, too, as if someone just threw a paper-thin layer straight over concrete.

She flips the light switch on, but nothing happens. The bulbs must be spent. She doesn’t fully close the door, leaves a sliver open so she isn’t trapped in total darkness. After doing her business, she turns on the tap and washes her hands with the tiny soap bar they provide, and dries them off on one of the folded towels.

Before she turns to leave, she catches the dim reflection of herself in the mirror. It’s eerie, looking into her own eyes in near-darkness. It almost feels like she’s looking at another person, and that other person is looking back at her. She stares long enough that she starts to believe it for real.

“Alice?”

She gasps and turns her head, then pulls the door open and peers over at Ariel, whose expression goes from panicked to relieved in a split second.

“Had to pee.” She crawls back into bed and curls into Ariel’s side, grateful when she gets a soothing hand running over her back. “The light in the bathroom doesn’t work.”

Ariel presses a kiss on her head. “Sorry. I know it’s not the best room.”

“Are we staying here? Is this the safe place?”

“No, this was just for tonight. We still have a ways to go.” Sighing, Alice rocks her head back to look at her, and she must see how much the not knowing is eating away at her. “I know you must have so many questions. And in time, I promise they’ll all be answered. It’s… some things have to stay secret for now.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s safer. You’d be surprised how often just knowing something can make you more vulnerable.”

Alice frowned. “Does that mean you won’t tell me where Papa is? And why he really left?”

“I’m sorry, honey. All I can tell you is that… he didn’t want to leave. There wasn’t much choice.”

“But he did it to keep me safe,” she replied, echoing Ariel’s words from last night.

“That’s right.” Alice sighs sadly, restless curiosity still burning inside of her even though she’s too tired and hurt to push. Ariel pats her bottom once, then rolls out of bed. “Up. Quick shower and then we’ll get some food.”

“But the light…”

“We’ll just leave the door open, okay?”

She nods, unhappy but compliant. She just wants to go home.

\---

When the sunlight begins fading once more, and the edge of the horizon goes through brilliant shades of all different colors, they’re still on the road. At least this morning she had time to put on socks under her boots, and was prepared for the trip.

“How much longer?” It comes out whinier than the last time she asked.

“Not much further now.”

“You said that an hour ago. And the hour before that.”

Ariel only responds by reaching over to pat Alice’s knee, which honestly aggravates her more.

She’s bored out of her mind. Unlike most people, she has no phone to play games on, and there’s only so much of ‘I, Spy’ she can handle before going mad. There are no radio stations where they are now, and Alice stopped the endless loop of Ariel’s only CD hours ago –– the Beach Boys don’t have quite the right tone for this kind of trip, anyway.

And, of course, her pressing questions continue to go unanswered.

Frustrated, she crosses her arms over her chest and glares out into the road ahead of them, right beyond where the headlights reach. She can feel pulsing in her ears, the sound of her simmering anger and dismay at her current situation. Her vision tunnels as she stares, a vortex of shapes blocking out everything else.

For a moment, it seems like the light ahead of them is getting brighter, not dimmer.

“Shit!” Ariel yelps, swerving slightly when one of her headlights explodes with an audible pop. Alice jumps, confused and shaken, vision swimming as she readjusts. “What the hell was that?”

Ariel flicks on the high beam on her one functioning headlight to make up for the loss of light, and Alice’s takes a few deep breaths. Her top lip feels wet and she reaches up to touch it.

Her fingers come back with a smear of crimson.

She reaches up to flip the sun visor down and looks in the mirror. Sure enough, there’s a line of blood trickling from her nostril, and she uses her shirtsleeve to wipe it away, only for the blood to dribble right back down.

“Ariel, my nose is bleeding.” They look at one another; Ariel sees the blood, and Alice sees Ariel’s eyes flicker with fear. “I mean, I’m fine. It’s just a nosebleed.”

Alice turns back to the mirror to watch herself dab at her nose, and the silence in the car is stifling. She sniffles, and then, like earlier that morning, locks eyes with her dimmed reflection.

The bleeding stops, but she keeps watching her own eyes, feeling off kilter, and weirdly afraid.

And then something moves, like an overlay of someone else’s face on her own, just a brief flash of a wicked grin and beady eyes, and Alice gasps and slams the visor back up.

“Alice? What is it?”

“Nothing,” she says, closing her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Alice––” she begins, but something draws her attention away, and Alice’s eyes open again when she hears Ariel whisper, “ _No_ ,” under her breath.

There are headlights in the rearview mirror; they weren’t there a moment ago, and it seems like the car is coming up on them fast.

“No,” Ariel repeats, picking up speed. “No. _Damn_.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Alice asks frantically, grabbing ahold of the safety handle above the window.

“They found us.” Those three words have her shaking, and she isn’t even sure why. She doesn’t even know who ‘ _they’_ are. “I thought we could make it. I thought we had time. I didn’t think it would have to come to this.”

“What does that mean? Ariel, what’s happening?!”

“They must have sensed when… Okay. Listen to me,” she says, her eyes dancing between the road and her rearview mirror. “I need you to get in the backseat.”

“What? Right now? While you’re driving?”

“Yes, honey, right now. I need you to go back there and open up my duffel, the side pocket with the tag on it.”

Her fingers feel tingly as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and she grips the seats as she maneuvers between them to follow Ariel’s instructions. The road turns just as she sits back down and she lurches to the side before righting herself.

She unzips the pocket and reaches in. There’s a small, rectangular wooden box and nothing else, so she pulls it out and opens it.

“It’s… a necklace?”

The pendant is pointed on the top and bottom, and curved in the center like a cylinder, transparent but for a strange sprinkle of blue-green inside. A thin leather string wraps around it several times over, then loops out, a knot holding the ends together. Her fingers gingerly brush over it.

“Put it on.”

Despite her confusion, she obeys, because it seems like someone is chasing them and Ariel’s tone is firm. It’s heavy, but the leather is soft.

Her eyes widen as the pendant begins to emit a small, green light.

“It’s glowing!”

“Yes. Alice, I want you to listen very carefully.” She hears Ariel take an audible gulp, and her stomach drops in fear. “That necklace is magic. It’ll take you where you need to go, or… close, in any case.”

She shakes her head, eyes stinging.

“Magic isn’t real. Tell me what’s really going on.”

“I promise, Alice, I’m telling you the truth.” Ariel grips the steering wheel and presses harder on the gas, and they’re going so fast, too fast. She’s afraid they’ll start spinning out of control. “But it’s not enough for two people. I didn’t think we’d have to resort to this, but you have to go without me.”

“What? No!”

“They’re catching up to us, and I won’t be able to keep you safe if you’re with me. They’ll take you, and that’s the last thing any of us wants. You can’t let them take you. Do you understand?”

“ _Who?_ Let _who_ take me?”

As if her words summoned them, the car that was behind them advances to their side. Alice catches a glimpse inside the front seat and her heart stutters when she sees them –– two shadow-like figures with red eyes, like some creatures from a horror film, or… like the ones from her dream.

She screams and presses her back hard against the door, as far away from them as she can get.

“Alice!” Ariel’s voice booms over her own and she looks helplessly at her. “Warren’s Cabin. That’s where you’re going. You’re going to ask for William. Are you listening?”

“I’m… I’m listening.”

“Warren’s Cabin. William. Can you remember that?”

“Y-yes.”

The window of the other car rolls down and she sees a long, black arm reaching towards them, the ends of its fingers tipped with bear-like claws.

“Where are you going?” Ariel demands.

“W-Warren’s Cabin.”

“And who are you looking for?”

“William.”

“Good girl,” she says through heavy breaths. “Alice?”

She’s barely able to cry out, “ _Yes?”_

“I love you. And I’ll see you soon.”

Her throat seizes and she surges forward, wrapping one arm over Ariel’s chest from behind. She feels a hand cover hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I love you, too.”

“Put the crystal between your palms. Now.”

Alice squeezes her eyes shut, falls back in the seat, and claps her hands around the pendant, holding it tight.

She feels the car swerve violently a split second before an odd, smoky scent fills her senses and she finds herself tumbling sideways down a grassy hillside.

Her body skids to a halt when she kicks her leg out for traction, and she immediately heaves the contents of her stomach on the ground beside her. She sits up, weary and overheated as the adrenaline wears off, wiping her mouth the back of her sleeve, where barely-dried blood is still smeared into the fabric.

And then she looks up.

Forests sit to her left, stretching into the distance, and a fairly steep hill obstructs her view to the right. It’s not quite dark out here, but surely less than an hour before dusk. But she doesn’t know where she is; she just knows she’s _somewhere_ and that she’s alone.

Ariel. Ariel’s gone. She said, ‘ _I’ll see you soon,’_ but Alice wonders if that wasn’t just something said to appease her. She could be taken by those _things_ , or hurt, or…

She buries her face in her hands and sobs, shoulders shaking, tears hot as they spill over. It’s been two years since she cried so hard that her stomach aches, that her throat feels ripped to shreds from wailing.

“Papa, h-help,” she hiccups, missing him more than ever. She wishes she could just throw herself into his arms, that he’d pull her to his chest and lift her up, and his large hand would be warm against her back, and he’d soothe her with soft, reassuring words spoken against the top of her head.

Instead, she wraps her arms around her knees and sits there, alone, until she’s cried herself out.

Darkness looms closer and closer, though, and she knows she can’t stay where she is.

She sniffles and wipes at her face while she stands and tries to assess where she is. There aren’t any roads or houses or even signs that could point her in the right direction. If she could get a better vantage point, maybe it would help.

It takes her over ten minutes to fight her way up the hill, the grass staining the material of her knees and elbows and her fingernails covered in dirt from trying to grip at the ground. But she makes it, panting and tired.

There isn’t anything up there, either. It’s hills and trees all around her, and her shoulders slump. Just as she’s ready to drop back down and cry again, she catches sight of something –– a line of gray smoke streaks over the deep blue of the sky. Smoke means fire, which probably means people.

There’s no way for her to tell how far away it is, but it’s definitely going to be long after dark before she can reach it. She crosses her arms over her stomach, feeling the pit of anxiety bubbling there.

Without much choice, she begins walking. She just hopes, as she glances around her, that no one and no _thing_ is watching her.

“Warren’s Cabin,” she says to herself. “William.”


End file.
